


Augenblick

by ualrightuokay



Category: Men's Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Crack, Dele being Dele, Dom/sub Undertones, Eric being Eric, Lingerie, M/M, Tottenham Hotspur, if ya squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 06:00:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16613261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ualrightuokay/pseuds/ualrightuokay
Summary: The first time Eric sees it he gets knocked down by a very determined midfielder





	Augenblick

**Author's Note:**

> This story hid in my German Literature folder hence the name, decided to keep it.  
> It's my first ever fanfiction, English is not my first language, let alone British English... and I don't even write, so be gentle with me...  
> The idea came about in a conversation I had on Tumblr.  
> The only warning i'd give is strong language, I also curse like a sailor irl, bad habits die hard what can I do  
> Anyway, it's just for fun, hope you'll enjoy it, come visit me on Tumblr under the same username :)

* * *

 

The first time Eric sees it he gets knocked down by a very determined midfielder.

 

“Great defending big man, hope you’re not going to be as generous against Arsenal!”

Eric was lying on the ground shocked and fixed his attacker with a blank stare-

“Yeah...” he said, reaching to grab Moussa’s stretched hand for help, getting himself and whatever was left of his dignity back up, “sorry mate, my head was elsewhere...got distracted by...something...”

Said something was standing not far away from them, currently running laps.

“Anyway Dier, get your shit straight, I’d hate to see you benched” said Moussa with a smile.

His shit wasn’t very straight to begin with, but he was indeed out of it. he’d usually contain himself if it wasn’t for _that_ moment not two minutes ago. Eric sighed, He brushed the dirt off himself, untied his shoelaces, tied them again _damn his superstitions_ and as he got up, he swore he saw a glimpse of it again, for a fraction of a second, a blink of an eye-

 

 

_white._

 

* * *

 

 

The second time Eric sees it he’s made complete mess of himself.

stupid. stupid man with his stupid smile and stupid legs and stupid caramel skin and training shorts _so tight_ they reveal-

 

 

_Lace?_

 

Maybe his eyes are playing tricks on him? Should he get them checked?

Maybe he’s just losing his mind? Heck, could be.

Unless, There’s a third option-

what he’s seeing is real.

He spits out the water he was just peacefully drinking from his mouth, spraying everyone around in the process.

 H’s voice brings him back to reality-

 “take it easy, you’ll choke!”

Eric is standing in the Tottenham dressing room, wearing nothing but a towel and currently covered by water he’d just spewed from his mouth.

 “Something wrong Dier?”

 “ ‘m fine” Eric coughed, trying to catch his breath, feigning his best nonchalant voice, _failing miserably._

“Clearly you’re not”

 _You basta-_ , Eric looks up at source of the remark, who in return fixes him with an amused expression, Eric returns the stare, Bad decision. Because now has front row seats to the best show in town, which is Dele’s face. Exactly the face he’s trying to avoid.

_Did he catch him looking?_

Dele smiles.

Dele winks.

It makes his stomach turn.

Sure he’s used to the ever present pushing of boundaries between them, but this is new, this is bold, this is _brazen_ –

Even for Dele.

Dele cocks an eyebrow suggestively, there’s a dangerous glint in his eyes that makes Eric think he’s up to something. That He knows Eric knows he is up to something. Eric is turning redder by the second.

“Anyway Diet, I’m going, catch me later.”

So what if his teammatebestfriendfuckbuddy _lover_ is wearing lace panties? This kind of shit happens all the time in football clubs’ dressing rooms, right? Maybe Dele just likes to treat himself to some nice undergarments every once in a while? Some people like to spend their money on cars or shoes or what else, maybe Dele spends his on…undies? Maybe it’s an ahm… an _inclination_ of his that Eric doesn’t know of?

The last thought makes Eric physically flinch.

_What normal person wouldn’t choke on their water?_

 

He suddenly feels the urge to take a very long, very cold shower.

  
 

* * *

 

 

He feels like shit.

They’re boarding a plane to someplace for some Champions League game. Eric is so exhausted he doesn’t even know where they’re going to anymore or what the hell they’re doing. Frankly, right now he can’t even bring himself to care...

The Arsenal game was bad. They managed to scrape a draw, Poch was unhappy to say the least. Eric thinks he won’t be able to take much of his scolding any longer. He knows they can do better, that _he_ can do better- but right now he just want some rest, some peace and quite from the stadium or the team bus or showers or whatever enclosed space he was forced to share with other people- _Damn he misses his dogs_ \- his brain supplies him with a painful reminder, he won’t be seeing them for the next few days...

He groans in frustration.

_Why can’t he just have a few minutes alone to himself to soak in self-pity?_

They’re settling on the plane, squeezing into a line along the narrow corridor, trying to find their seats and store their suitcases, Eric is lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t even notice Dele is struggling with his bag _the man is 1.88 m tall he should be able to reach the overhead compartments-_

then comes a loud thud! The suitcase falls on the ground.

Toby, next in line on Dele’s other side, turns around and crouches over to help with the fallen bag,

“Thanks Toby, I’ll handle this myself” Dele chirps, Eric is wondering if he should’ve offered help-

Dele turns to him, which is weird because the fallen suitcase is definitely the other way, and gives him a smile so subtle, yet so sly, Eric knows he’s in trouble. then he turns the other way, and carefully shuffles over to pick up what’s his-

Next, Dele gracefully leans over, throwing a small glance back, making sure Eric has his full, undivided attention. He turns slowly, bending over in long, deliberate moves, lowering his torso down, stretching his long, toned legs up, raising his ass high-

Eric is damn sure he isn’t making this up this time.

Dele’s perfectly tailored suit jacket slides just a tiny bit up, his pants stretch a down just enough for the shirt to ride up exposing the small of his back and _oh-_

 

_White. Lace._

 

 _Delicate white lace_ , his look travels down, Eric is entranced

 

_A garter belt._

 

Eric’s brain short-circuits. He’s frozen like a rock. A red, blushing, sweaty, slightly trembling rock. _It’s a trap, its banter, it’s a joke, he’s got him good this time-_ Eric looks at Dele who casually goes around his business like nothing fucking happened, like he didn’t just put on a show bending over, like he isn’t hiding a full _stunning_ set of undergarments under that obligatory Champions-League-away-game suit, like he isn’t the physical manifestation of every fantasy Eric has had since he met, and fell in love with that beautiful, _beautiful_ boy.

 

 “would ya move already Dier!”

People behind him are eager to take their seats and getting impenitent. Of course, they haven’t seen the private semi-lap dance he’d just witnessed. He flumps down on the nearest empty seat, burying his face behind the safety instructions pamphlet. Eric prays for the plane to take off and for the lights dim the hell down so at least he’ll be able to hide his mad flush and raging hard-on.

Somebody sits next to him, he doesn’t bother looking up. he buckles his seat belt, turns his face to the window and plugs his earphones. They’re taking off, everything quiets down a few minutes later, he can already hear loud snores mixing with the music in his ears.  

“Ahhm” his neighbor clears his throat,

a tap on the shoulder makes him turn the other way, _when_ _will they_ _ever leave him be -_

It’s Dele. Marvelous. Eric avoids his eyes.

“What?” Eric turns and sneers with fake annoyance. Anything to get Dele to stop talking to him.

Dele just fixes him with a casual stare; “got something you want to say to me?”

Eric is genuinely baffled.

“Why would you think I have something to say to you?” he shoots back. it came out faster than he intended, _that didn’t sound too calm…_ he lifts his gaze to look at Dele, and that _man_ dares to give him a blank stare plus a raised eyebrow,

Like he knows Eric’s bullshitting, like he knows-

“I don’t know, you seem pretty upset, seen something that agitated you?” Eric contemplates his best witty, conversation ending remark when Dele continues- “seen something you _like_?”

Eric’s mind betrays him, he’s at loss for words. Eric is done. Eric is so done.

So Dele continues-

“you know, there’s more where it came fr-“

 “Ssshhhh, you idiot! people might hear you!” he desperately hopes no one heard this conversation.

“Oh Eric, _I_ have got nothing to hide” he smiles. He goddamn smiles.

Then it dawns upon him-

“You’re doing this on purpose!” he is angry, and flustered, and raised his voice a little too much. Dele taunts him-

“careful now, someone might hear _you_ ”

for once he is quiet.

 

“So you _did_ like what you saw.”

 

Well, he has been caught- or rather lured into this, no point in hiding now-

“Yes.” He says quietly, confessing his thirst for Dele, admitting his little game worked.

It’s the affect Dele has on him; he has the power to make his heart flutter, his knees weak and turn his supposedly sharp brain to into a useless syrupy mush. He feels like a child caught stealing from the Dele cookie jar.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been kinda down lately, you are too hard on yourself Dier-” _was that pun intended?_ Dele goes on with a sing songy lilt- _he’s enjoying this_ Eric thinks, _Diva._ “So I decided to give you a little incentive” he says with a promising grin “also, I just like fancy underwear” Eric chokes yet again, “ -and making you blush.”

“I hate you.” Clearly, he doesn’t.  He is more intrigued than ever.

“No, you don’t” Dele waves it off, looming closer to whisper in his ear, “and I promise you that if you’ll show me how _bad_ you want it, and be your _very best_ the next game, you’ll get to see the whole set” he whispers hotly “and believe me, it is worth it.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

They win the game.

Eric scores a brace.

His whole body is shivering with anticipation.

 

 

 

 


End file.
